


Hail The Conquering Hero

by KittyNomsDePlume (Extra_Pickles)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Rivalmance (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra_Pickles/pseuds/KittyNomsDePlume
Summary: Hawke and Fenris - bitter rivals - finally come to blows. But perhaps it will take more than a sparring match to resolve the tension between these two.Written for the14daysofDAloversprompt - Take My Hand
Relationships: Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Hail The Conquering Hero

Hawke grunts, more in exasperation than pain, as she lands hard on her arse. After endless months of snidely criticising her defensive combat skills, Fenris has finally goaded her into sparring with him. She knew it was a mistake; even as she’d hotly challenged him to the bout. There is something about the surly, opinionated elf, that rouses an irrational obstinacy in her.

“Weak.” Fenris sneers, as he dodges her offensive spells and closes in to sweep her legs from under her. She rolls onto her stomach, huffing angrily in the dirt, before rising and dusting herself off. She readies her staff and silently waves him on - _Come at me again._

Really, she only had herself to blame for this humiliation. After all, she often had a perfect view on him on the field of battle, as he charged fearlessly to the fore. Harrying their enemies, while she kept to the periphery and picked them off from a safe distance. Hawke knew how dangerous he was. A perfect weapon; a mage-killer.

That truth often makes her sad, stirring an unexpectedly tender feeling of compassion for Fenris. Hawke knows how it feels, to be perceived as a monster. A living weapon, as opposed to a thinking, feeling person. Fenris likes to remind her of it daily, after all. Perhaps that’s why he is giving her such a drubbing. She is being too soft on him, because she pities him.

 _Yes… sure… that’s obviously what is happening here_ , Hawke sarcastically mocks herself.

“Too easy.” Fenris boasts, shredding through her barrier and blasting her back with a charge from his hand. “If I was your real enemy, you’d be dead now.” He barks angrily, looming over her, with his blade resting mere inches above her neck.

If it were anyone else, Hawke would readily admit, she was being foolish and stubborn; she is clearly no match. Fenris never missed a chance to belittle her however; to suggest that it was only a matter of time before she resorted to blood magic. It set her teeth on edge, that he was so quick to write her off. So dismissive of all her hard work and good intentions, because he believed that deep in her soul was an inherent corruption - just waiting to rear its ugly, inevitable head.

“Again!” Hawke demands. She doesn’t care if she’s bruised and broken by the end of this. She won’t admit defeat, she cannot. Not to _him_.

Fenris paces in front of her, waiting for her to make the first move. Hawke knows it’s what he expects; that he can see how flustered and angry she is becoming. He assumes she will lose her temper and lash out recklessly. Like a stupid, petulant mage - she can practically hear him thinking it. She didn’t survive this long and come this far, however, without patience and cunning. So she waits; she watches.

It is no great difficulty, for he is beautiful in motion. His movements fluid and effortless; like a lethal fog, that leaves her breathless. Hawke exhales slowly and fixes her eyes on his face; now is not the time to let her mind wander. His eyes narrow, as he realises she is not going to behave as he anticipated. Hawke huffs quietly to herself; all this time they’ve been fighting alongside each other and he has no faith in her whatsoever.

Her staff suddenly snaps forward and Fenris dodges aside. She feels a rush of triumph and tamps it down; it is too soon to celebrate. The motion of her staff is a feint, for she has observed, that Fenris tends to instinctively dodge toward his right, onto his dominant leg. She begins casting the moment he twitches and his eyes go wide in surprise. Then suddenly he is gone and her lightning strike hits empty ground.

“What?” Hawke gasps, a cold chill of terror seizing her. Too late, she turns her head and he is there behind her. He kicks her in the back of the knees and she goes down like a bag of rocks, her staff jarring from her hands.

 _Maker he is fast! How is he so fucking fast?_ She bites down hard, fighting back a scream of frustration. She didn’t even know he could… _What? What the fuck did he just do?_

“Danarius invested a lot of time and money, training me to kill rival Magisters,” Fenris drawls coolly, as though he can see her internal thoughts writ large on her face. Maybe Hawke imagines it - but she can’t help but feel there is a hint of mockery present in his gravelly voice. It fuels something inside her; some tangled up storm of emotions she can’t quite put words to. Wounded pride, certainly that. Also, deep frustration and abject humiliation - but not just because he is effortlessly wiping the floor with her. Some part of her desperately craves his approval - not for her fighting ability, but for _her_. Hawke the mage; Hawke the living, breathing, _feeling_ woman.

“Don’t take it to heart, that you can’t catch me off guard.” The smirk on his lips confirms it; he is absolutely loving the fact that he is making her eat dirt. “Here.” Fenris reaches his hand down to her; smugly offering to help her up, after putting her so firmly in her place. Hawke glares up at him, wanting to smack the look of condescension right off his cocky face. “Don’t be sore,” Fenris needles, “take my hand."

 _Arrogant bastard_ , she seethes. _I’ll catch him off guard alright_ , she thinks, with an impulsive and probably ill-considered idea. She grabs his hand, letting him haul her to her feet. Though he drops her hand, she carries through with the momentum of his lift and steps in close to him, grasping the collar of his armour. Fenris begins to raise his arms defensively, thinking she is about to attack, but when her mouth locks over his in a hurried kiss, he freezes. She places her free hand on his shoulder, as she locks her leg behind his and throws him to the ground; diving down to straddle his waist.

“That was a cheap ploy,” he growls, outraged. The intense emotion on his face sends a thrill through Hawke and not all of it is fear. He attempts to sit up, “If this was on-”

“Who says it was a ploy?” Hawke interjects huskily, pinning his shoulders to the ground.

“I… uhhhh,” a ripple of panic and confusion sweeps across his face and now it is her turn to smirk. He could easily push her off, she has had ample demonstration of how strong he is. For some reason however, he suddenly seems hesitant to put his hands on her. Hawke exhales a slow, shaky breath. The sudden rush of power is making her feel dizzy.

 _Is it wrong,_ Hawke wonders, _to feel this way?_ Why shouldn’t she? He was certainly taking pleasure moments ago, from seeing her humiliated and powerless.

“What’s the matter, Fenris?” Hawke teases, inching her face closer to his once again. “I guess Danarius failed to teach you how to ward off _all_ forms of attack.” She’d meant it as a jest, but the agony that fills his eyes at the mention of his cruel former Master, makes her flinch. “I-I’m sorry,” Hawke stammers. Immediately she relinquishes her hold on his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have… that was. I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, as she rears back. He arches up after her, snagging her wrist before she can stand.

“Hawke...” he murmurs thoughtfully. He frowns pensively as he studies her, searching for something in her expression. He opens his mouth to speak, but words fail him and he anxiously licks his lips instead. Hawke holds her breath, heart thundering in its cage. This has all taken an unexpected turn. His jaw tightens, a wariness returning to his features. “You’re toying with me,” he accuses hotly. Hawke splutters in protest, turning red at the accusation. Yes, perhaps she was trying to catch him off guard, but she’s genuinely sorry for making light of his suffering.

“You couldn’t beat me fairly, so of course you’d resort to such cruel, under-handed tactics.” Fenris doesn’t say it, but she knows what he is thinking - Just like every other filthy mage he’s ever known. He is sneering at her with such open disdain, his grip on her wrist so tight and unrelenting. His naked revulsion rekindles her own anger.

“Fuck you, Fenris!” She snarls defensively, struggling against his iron grip. She won’t sit here and be insulted, or compared to an evil blood-mage like Danarius any longer. Fenris is wrong. He is so wrong about her, why can’t he see it? “Let me go you asshole!”

“Prove me wrong then,” he demands. “Kiss me again.” Hawke stills, eyes wide with disbelief. He yanks down on her wrist, pulling her toward him. “Kiss me like you mean it,” he growls and her face is suddenly, unbearably hot.

 _He can’t be serious_ , she thinks, stunned into inaction. _He can’t stand me… he…_

“Hmph, that’s what I thought,” Fenris snarls, flinging her wrist from his grasp, as though her very touch revolts him. “You’re all the same-” Hawke leans forward, taking his face firmly between her hands.

“Shut-up,” she snaps and then closes her mouth over his. He is hard and unyielding; just like everything else about him, but she perseveres. Slowly, slowly coaxing; savouring his lips, with her mouth and her tongue. She gently grazes over his lower lip with her teeth and she can feel his breath, rushing hot and fast against her cheek, spurring her boldly on. She probes between his lips with her tongue, pressing against his teeth, demanding entry. Finally he relents, relaxing his mouth and letting her in, to curl her tongue against his. He tastes surprisingly sweet, considering how much scathing bitterness fall from his lips.

Hawke feels the tension melt from him, as he softens beneath her. Her aches and bruises are forgotten, her whole body tingling with a surge of triumph. Fenris makes no move beyond returning her kiss, his tongue now eagerly twining with hers. A new ache is building inside her. If he doesn’t put his hands on her soon, she fears the scorching heat that lashes through her trembling frame will consume her whole.

Then, blessedly, he does; sliding one arm around her, to rest his hand on the back of her hip, the other coming up to cradle her nape. A ragged moan bursts from her and into his mouth at the contact, and his grip tightens in response.

“Hawke,” he pants, pulling back to study her quizzically - as though he is seeing her for the first time. Her fingers stroke his face, dipping across his jaw and smoothing down his neck in a long, reverent caress.

“So?” Hawke quirks an eyebrow expectantly. His brow furrows, not sure what she is waiting for. “Did I prove you wrong?” she asks, with only the hint of a tease and Fenris blinks. Then he is laughing; a full, throaty sound of amusement and Hawke stares in disbelief, a smile slowly growing on her mouth.

“Yes,” he rumbles; that single, heated syllable weighted with so much meaning, far beyond the current context. A shudder runs through Hawke at the sound of it, and his hand on her neck urges her back toward him. Their lips clash again and Hawke slides her arms over his shoulders; pressing close against him, as her hand tangles in his stark shock of hair.

Fenris crushes her against him, his mouth dragging along her exposed neck and she gasps when he flips her over onto her back. He’s put her in the dirt again, but with his mouth and hands driving her into a state of delirium, she no longer seems to care.

**Author's Note:**

> So originally for this prompt, I planned to write a lovely little, sweet piece of Solavellan fluff. But - probably quite predictably given the prompt - it very rapidly devolved into something grim and fatalistic. I might try and finish it at a later date, but it was depressing me, so I smashed this out instead.
> 
> Not that this ended up being any less angsty! But I sure do love me a Rivalmance between Hawke and Fenris.


End file.
